Sunday Afternoons On Tenter Street
by TisTheEast
Summary: Jackson couldn't recall how precisely it had started, only that it was their routine to spend the day together in the upstairs parlor adjacent to Susan's bedroom.


_Author's note: This was supposed to finished weeks ago and was supposed to be quite fluffy, but Jackson's angsty internal monologue decided otherwise. I'm going to call this incomplete for the time being because the multiple drafts of this piece have several scenes that I've saved and could perhaps re-write into followup chapters. Spoiler-wise, this takes place sometime after Season 1, Episode 4 but has spoilers for Season 1 Episode 7. _

Sunday afternoons at 22 Tenter Street were supremely quiet. After the typically boisterous late night turned early morning prior, the house was closed for business until later in the evening. Some of the girls rose early and went to church, a practice that baffled Susan though nonetheless one she did not object to. Others slept in later, but still seemed to be out the front door no later than ten taking full advantage of the time they had to visit with friends or simply stroll in groups of three or four. Even the few who stayed home kept to their rooms, which meant that Susan and Jackson basically had the house to themselves.

Jackson couldn't recall how precisely it had started, only that it was their routine to spend the day together in the upstairs parlor adjacent to Susan's bedroom. Despite wherever he found himself waking up and whatever his state of drunkenness from the night before, Jackson managed to drag himself back to Tenter Street well before Susan was awake.

As was his custom, on this morning he took to the kitchen first brewing a pot of tea though briefly considering a second attempt at the elaborate coffee brewing apparatus he'd purchased a few months ago that Susan had likened to a scientific experiment. He smiled to himself remembering her reaction to being presented with a cup.

"It's very good," she said, sipping the dark brown liquid. "But one could certainly yield the same result without using half the kitchen."

Yes, they would stick with tea for today, but the kitchen might end up worse for the wear if he couldn't find the item he sought.

"What are you doing?"

Jackson's head emerged from the lower cabinet he was crouched in front of to find Rose standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a puzzled look on her face. "Good morning, Rose. I'm just, uh, looking for something."

"I see," she said glancing at the various pots and pans that were strewn across the floor. Her gaze travelled to the counter and the bright flowers poking out of his satchel. "Something for those, perhaps?"

"Yes."

"Who are they for?"

Oddly, Jackson didn't quite know how to answer that question. Of the flowers were for Susan, but if he answered as much, he worried that there'd be several other questions to follow. More than likely the combination of those questions and the early (for him) hour would only result in the kind of vague answers that occasionally got the girls whispering theories about he and their mistress. He'd have been more than happy to simply tell the truth by way of asking whether it was a crime for man to buy his wife flowers, but the truth would only lead to more questions, the first of which he could imagine would be about his repeated dalliances with Rose and the other girls. Not to mention that Susan's reaction to all of this would guarantee that his Sundays and the following days of the next several weeks would be less than pleasant.

"Well if you aren't going to answer me, that's fine," Rose said interrupting his rapidly derailing train of thought. "You just better clean up this mess before Miss Susan sees it or she'll have your head for sure."

"Thank you, Rose," Jackson sighed as she turned to leave.

After deciding to place the flowers in a gaudy pitcher that he swore must have come with the house as he couldn't imagine Susan purchasing it, he headed upstairs. The teapot, cups and flowers were arranged on the low table, and he arranged himself in his usual spot, stretched out on the couch. He closed his eyes only for a moment before he heard the bedroom door open.

"Mornin' darlin'," he said sitting up.

"Closer to afternoon, I think," Susan said moving to sit next to him instead taking her usual spot in the arm chair. She noticed the flower immediately. "What's this?"

Outwardly he shrugged, winking at her, but inwardly he was transported back to New York in the early days of Matthew Judge's employment with Theodore Swift. Back then he had marveled at how an already world weary man could feel like a lovesick boy simply by making Caitlin Swift smile, and though she now went by Susan and he by Homer, the smile and the feeling were the same.

She touched his arm lightly, "They're lovely."

"They're no high society garden party, but I thought you might like them," Jackson said watching a slow smile appear on her lips. On her last birthday in New York, Caitlin had insisted on a rather lavish garden party which her father was more than happy to consent to, thinking it would be the perfect opportunity for his daughter to spend time with the latest in a series of up and coming business tycoon whose fortunes Swift would be glad to connect to his own. Only interested in propriety when its application suited her whim, Caitlin had turned down the man's offer to stroll through the hedge maze unescorted and insisted instead that Matthew accompany her.

"No chance of leaves in my hair with these I suppose," Susan said pouring a cup of tea for each of them.

Jackson couldn't hold back a chuckle. Over the past year they had spent so much time barely speaking to each other between arguments that he had nearly forgotten how easily she could make him laugh. Typically their Sundays spent together were spent in silence, mostly comfortable but sometimes very cold. Since the ordeal with Lucy, however, something had shifted between them just slightly, and they both seemed to make more of an effort toward civility.

Today, however, seemed to take them a few steps beyond civility as Jackson continued to laugh saying, "And no chance of whatever her name was trying to corner you into her flower arranging parties."

"Indeed," Susan smiled, then tried to stifle a yawn. "I think her name was Jeffers."

Jackson studied her for a moment and much like earlier in kitchen, he weighed his options. She was still tired for sure, but sitting next to him only half dressed in petticoats and a silk robe with her hair still down, Susan was gorgeous. There was a time when the only choice would been whether to carry her off to the bedroom for some mutual relaxation or simply curl up together on the couch for a nap, but of course things were more complicated now.

So he settled on refilling her teacup.


End file.
